The Enduring Appeal of James Garner

One of my favorite leading men passed away this month, so I wanted to dedicate this blog post to him. What was it about the late James Garner that appealed so much? For me, it wasn’t just that he was devastatingly handsome in a completely approachable way; it’s what he represented to America during the course of his career.

Watching his films, you detect something so natural, so easygoing about Garner that you always felt like he could be someone you knew. A neighbor, a coworker, a pal you could have a beer with. Someone who would be a lot of fun, but who wouldn't embarrass himself or anyone else.

By contrast, male movie stars today seem remote or unapproachable. They’re George Clooney or Tom Cruise, floating somewhere in the stratosphere living a life no regular person can even imagine. They’re uncouth Adam Sandler-type slobs with whom you can’t envision being able to carry on a conversation without them burping or swearing. They’re a man-child like Seth Rogen, those guys who can't grow up enough to know when to stay off of Twitter or otherwise embarrass themselves in the media.

James Garner was just a different animal altogether.

His film roles represent the Garner style: An unassuming, charming gentleman with a sense of humor. But while his style seems effortless, he had a pretty substantial film career during most of the 1960s, his filmic heyday. He tackled comedies, adventures, war films, westerns, and serious dramas. He was able to bring a sly humor to any role he played. He wasn’t a brooding Brando; rather, he was natural and smooth, sort of Cary Grant’s younger brother.

Garner’s first big break in television was in 1957 in the western “Maverick,” which was the earliest indication of his easygoing charm. After a few parts in films both large and small, he was cast in William Wyler’s “The Children’s Hour” (1961), one of the first mainstream Hollywood films to deal with homosexuality. (This isn't surprising for a lifelong fair-minded Democrat.) He lent the requisite masculinity to a film dominated by Audrey Hepburn and Shirley Maclaine, and revealed an easiness that would serve him well in subsequent roles in both film and television.

His follow-up was as an ensemble cast of virile male stars in “The Great Escape,” John Sturges’ fantastic WWII adventure movie about a band of inmates in a German camp who plot an elaborate escape. Just look at this list of co-stars: Steve McQueen, Charles Bronson, James Coburn, Richard Attenborough and a raft of solid British supporting players. Garner brought his affable charm to bear, but he also demonstrated tenderness in several key scenes as the men desperately attempt their escape. In a cast of watchable men, he commands the most attention throughout the film.

Garner with Doris Day

After this big-budget, all-star war film, Garner stepped into a type he was most comfortable with: light comedy. In 1963 alone, he co-starred in big-budget, Technicolor romantic comedies opposite the delicious and underrated Lee Remick (“The Wheeler Dealers”) and box-office goldmine Doris Day (“The Thrill of It All” and “Move Over, Darling”). It wasn’t just Rock Hudson who helped Day shine in these light comic stories.

A more substantive seriocomic role came next, in 1964’s “The Americanization of Emily” (which Garner claimed was his favorite film). He played a reluctant Army man stationed in England during WWII who falls in love with a noncommittal nurse (played by a pre-“Mary Poppins” Julie Andrews). The film deals with the meaninglessness of war, the meaning of bravery (and cowardice), and existential themes that rose above mere romance (although the film has romance in spades). Garner and Andrews made a marvelous pair of dubious lovers, although you could argue that Garner had good chemistry with all of his leading ladies.

During the mid-to-late ‘60s Garner coasted on still more light comedies opposite such sixties ladies as Elke Sommer, Angie Dickinson, Sandra Dee and Debbie Reynolds, as well as the occasional western. None of these stand out in retrospect. However, one that does is 1966’s “Grand Prix” (opposite Eva Marie Saint). Looking back, it seems fitting that Garner should appear in a film about auto racing, which became one of his passions.


Garner as Jim Rockford

At the close of the decade, Garner appeared in one more successful film, returning him to his western roots but with a comic spin in “Support Your Local Sheriff!” He followed it up in 1971 with “Support Your Local Gunfighter” but by then his starring days were over. It was back to television, with what would arguably be the role in which he would be best remembered: Jim Rockford in “The Rockford Files.” It was this role that encompassed everything we knew about the James Garner persona: Tough but sweet, funny and self-deprecating, a man of action who wasn’t afraid to show the bumps and bruises.

What I admire about James Garner is his lack of pretense. It comes through in every role. He is never flashy. He comes off as a man who respected his profession but didn't take himself too seriously. He seemed like a nice person, someone you could trust, who was fair. He was a man of action, yes, but he did not embrace violence. He was not Schwarzenegger, Willis, or Stallone. He was not absurdly indestructible.

After an excellent turn in Blake Edwards' marvelous "Victor/Victoria" in 1981, which reunited him with Julie Andrews, the last really good movie in which he starred was “Murphy’s Romance” opposite Sally field in 1986. He was nominated for an Oscar for his performance, which capitalized on the easygoing manner that audiences had come to love.

Never afraid to be a goof

He made fewer appearances after the '80s, but a couple worth noting include clever casting in the 1994 remake of his series “Maverick,” and 20 years after that in the very popular “The Notebook.” By this time Garner was an old man and had the regard of several generations behind him, which made his tender scenes opposite Gena Rowlands, as the elderly versions of Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams, all the more moving.

When someone like James Garner dies, you reflect on what the man stood for in his lifetime. Movie stars are microcosms of the types of people we are as Americans; they represent what we value. In the context of movie stardom, when you compare James Garner to the male stars of today, you get a greater sense of loss because it seems as though a certain set of values and attitudes--respect, modesty, dignity, civility, kind humor--are slowly disappearing from American life.

Still, we have his movies to enjoy and be reminded.

Here's a summation of Garner via Turner Classic Movies.

Velvet Touch: The Distant Beauty of Martha Hyer

If you have never heard of Martha Hyer, you're probably not alone. She was a gorgeous blonde actress of the 1950s whose impact on film history, in retrospect, is fairly negligible. She made a few good films, a handful of forgettable ones, and was rarely the lead. She died last month at age 89, so I am writing this post in her honor because her presence—regal, poised, elegant—made an impact on me as a young film fan.

Hyer personified the “cool blonde” ideal of the 1950s. She was billed by Universal Studios as its “answer to Grace Kelly,” which is apt in that they had a similar look (blonde, patrician) and a similar bearing (chic, graceful).

One could argue that Kelly was the better actress; she certainly had better luck with her roles, in much more distinguished films (all those Hitchcock pictures!). While Kelly made a splash with just her second film, the classic western “High Noon” opposite one of the era’s biggest male stars, Gary Cooper, Hyer’s early career saw her languishing in bit parts and roles in low-budget films. She landed a part in the grade-A Rosalind Russell vehicle “The Velvet Touch” in 1948, but after that it was back to B westerns.

But in 1954, she had her first role in what would become a classic, the romantic comedy “Sabrina.” Granted, she was not the star—that honor belonged to Audrey Hepburn, who was just getting started herself. But Hyer made an impression as William Holden's upper crust girlfriend, her haughty, cool demeanor in stark contrast with Hepburn’s brunette impishness.

1963's "Wives and Lovers"

And that is the persona for which she is perhaps best remembered today: The rich girl, often conceited, sometimes sympathetic, but always chic. Hyer acquitted herself well, if one-dimensionally, in most every role she played, and she always looked great doing it. A quick survey of photos online reveals a woman who knew how to wear the fashions of the day.

The late ‘50s was the best period for her. In 1957 she played the sophisticated yet spoiled sister of June Allyson in the remake of “My Man Godfrey,” but she also got a couple rare leads opposite such hot actors as Rock Hudson in “Battle Hymn” and Tony Curtis in “Mr. Cory" that same year.

So she wasn’t always relegated to just a supporting part, but even when she was, she sometimes had a chance to shine. In 1958, she played a sympathetic small-town schoolteacher who cannot love Frank Sinatra in “Some Came Running.” It's an excellent time capsule, and it contains Hyer’s best work; she was nominated for an Oscar. But that same year, she was back to the snooty girlfriend in “Houseboat” (1958). (To add insult to injury, she loses Cary Grant to Sophia Loren.)

Where Grace Kelly quit movies to become a real-life princess in 1956, Hyer had to keep working, and there was really nowhere for the refined ice queen, a Hollywood staple of the 1950s, to go next as the decade came to a close.

"The Carpetbaggers"

The vibe of Hollywood in the 1960s was different than the previous decades; it's as if Tinsel Town, and society at large, was saying, 'We don't need your refinement anymore; we want something louder, brighter, looser, more coarse. Adapt or die.' So Martha Hyer adapted, taking roles that urged her to be a sexier, dissolute version of her old screen self. The times they were a-changin', after all. In the low-brow “The Carpetbaggers” (1964) she played a sexy call girl; in “The Chase” (1966), she played a drunk socialite. In both, she looked the part of an aging beauty queen.

Passed over for the role of Marion Crane in "Psycho," a part that immortalized Janet Leigh, Hyer took a role in 1964 in a cheap imitation called "Pyro: The Thing without a Face," a year which also saw her in something called  “Bikini Beach." Maybe T.V. was a safer haven. She appeared in guest spots on such popular ‘60s programs as Family Affair, Bewitched, The Beverly Hillbillies, and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour.


Publicity still for
"The Chase"

Over the course of her 25 years in Hollywood, Hyer played with some of the biggest stars of her time. In addition to Hudson, Curtis, Grant, and Bogart, she also worked with such disparate names as Bob Hope and Marlon Brando, Joan Crawford and John Wayne, Robert Mitchum and Robert Redford, Jane Wyman and Jane Fonda.

She hung up her acting career in 1974 to focus on her social life and marriage to Hal Wallis, the famed producer of many great Warner Brothers movies of the studio era, which had already come to an end by the time Hyer married him in 1966. The glamorous Hollywood they knew was pretty much over by then anyway.

When Wallis died in 1986, Hyer apparently found religion and left California to live out retirement in Santa Fe, New Mexico. She was glad to leave behind Hollywood, saying, “When you live with fame as a day-to-day reality, the allure of privacy and anonymity is as strong as the desire for fame for those who never had it.”

This insightful quote about the price of fame makes me wonder if the so-called stars of today (reality show and otherwise), who pursue their stardom like it’s the ultimate prize of solid gold, will ever have that revelation.

At her finest, Hyer struck a regal pose that added an elegant figure to the proceedings. She represents a pre-feminist view of femininity; but perhaps feminists can learn a thing or two from what she represents: A woman with knowing self-possession who may have been beautiful, but was also in control of herself. (Compared to the way celebrity women self-objectify today, Martha Hyer's persona seems downright radical in retrospect.)

As far as the entertainment industry goes, it’s hard to imagine that we’ll ever see her type of unreachable beauty and aloof attitude again. True, Martha Hyer has been out of the public eye for four decades, and her velvety style was passé by the time she finished with the business. Maybe we didn’t really miss her while she was away. But sometimes we don’t realize what we once had until it’s finally gone.

See a nice photo compilation here.